© 2006

Special thanks go to Norman Koren, photographer extraordinaire, who is always endlessly patient with the photography-challenged; and to Larry DiLucchio, for his wonderfully factual Web site, and his generosity of time in answering questions about Navajo culture. Any errors in the story are undoubtedly due to my not asking the right questions!

“You need to get laid.”

Joe Youngblood shot a narrowed look at Arnie Benally as they crossed the Navajo Tribal Police parking lot toward their cars. Correctly interpreting the danger in his colleague’s glare, Arnie held up his hand placatingly. “Okay, hear me out. All I’m saying is this whole disagreement with your grandfather isn’t like you. Most of us don’t like the Tribal Council’s decision to bring in a belagana to write this book on Navajo culture, but is it really worth being at odds with Charley over? You have different opinions. End of story.”

“And this involves a woman…how?”

“You’re too tightly wound, man.” They paused beside Joe’s unmarked blue Jeep, and Arnie winked. “What you need is a night of hot, mind-numbing sex with some sweet young thing to clear your head. Sex relieves stress. There’s research.”

“That’s charming,” Joe said drily. He dug in the pocket of his jeans for the keys. “Now I can see how you convinced Brenda to marry you. You’ve got the heart of a poet.”

“Brenda would agree with me.” But Arnie cast a quick glance over his shoulder, as if half expecting to see his short plump wife behind him. “She’s even mentioned fixing you up sometime. She’s got a friend who’s…” Meeting Joe’s gaze again, his words trailed off.